


The Rocky Horror Thunder Show

by lucayathegood



Category: The Thundermans
Genre: F/M, Sibling Incest, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Thundercest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucayathegood/pseuds/lucayathegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me  /or/  Phoebe Thunderman's Spring Awakening. Warnings: Underage Drinking, Thundercest, and a shameful attempt at a Rocky Horror homage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only Ever Kissed Before

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so.. Not the best, or longest, first chapter. But I was watching Rocky Horror last night (specifically "Damn it, Janet" and "Touch a Touch a Touch Me" when I thought of my favorite thunder twins. Why is that not surprising?

It was 9:00 p.m. on a Saturday.

"I need air, I need air," a breathless Phoebe let out, Link lifting his lips from hers. Of all places, Phoebe never thought she'd be making out in the storage room of her Dad's favorite mattress store. Her legs were wrapped carelessly around her boyfriend's waist, back against a stack of mattresses. Why they hadn't thought to use one, she didn't bother wasting precious air to wonder aloud.

His lips moved to her neck ( _Ohhh_ ) as the hand that wasn't holding her steady searched roughly for the bottom of her skirt. Eyebrows raised, she reached down to peel his fingers from her thighs.

"Hey..." She began, slightly alarmed but no so much that she made any sort of effort to open her eyes. Link's lips travelled from her neck to her collarbone, hand sliding farther down her waist in an attempt to finish what he began seconds before. Again, she stopped him.

"C'mon," Link murmured into her chest, lifting her skirt. Phoebe placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back.

"Link," she warned, eyes now open. He looked at her carefully, setting her down to stand on her own. Pulling back, Phoebe ran a hand through her hair, visibly more nervous than their initial kissing had given her reason to be.

Sighing, she smoothed her clothes out.

"I'm sorry," they both began. Link let out a laugh, the mood beginning to lighten.

"You first," he said with a smile. She returned it with one of her own. A small one.

"I'm sorry, Link. It's just -- I'm just not really ready for that right now," she admitted. But if she actually thought about it, she was. In fact, she was more than ready to go farther than they had. And if the past year had taught her anything, it was that Link was an amazing boyfriend. Far better than any boy she'd encountered before. And he was more than willing. So what's stopping her?

"It fine, really," he assured her, adjusting the top buttons of his shirt. "I mean, I don't want to push you to do anything if you're not ready to do it." His eyes moved to the mattresses she'd been leaning on for support just moments ago. "Especially here," he added, earning a laugh from Phoebe.

The two stood there, neither saying a word. Making sure things didn't get even more awkward than they were beginning to be, Phoebe looked for her phone, hidden under the cardigan she'd removed in the heat of the moment. She held it up, gesturing towards it.

"Oh, look!" she faked surprise. "It's already nine o'clock? I better call Cherry," she stated, typing the password and searching for her bestie's contact.

"I can give you a ride," he offered, not taking what she thought was an obvious hint. "It's fine, we were actually planning on--"

" _Mr. Evilman_?"

At the sudden sound, Link turned his head towards the door. Of course it was Max. He sighed, not ready to deal with his girlfriend's annoying brother. But Phoebe was more than relieved to get out of a situation she had only just realized she was uncomfortable being in.

Link reached for the door, Phoebe moving quickly to stop him. She turned back around.

"I'll handle it," she told him. Hey eyes drifted to the pile of boxes in the corner of the room that she remembered they were supposed to be sorting. "Someone's got a lot of work to do," she said with a smirk (wasn't that her twin's thing?) and twisted the doorknob, opening and closing the entrance with a sigh of relief.

"Phoebe?" Max asked in surprise, turning to look at her. Her hair, as good as she tried to fix it, was tangled, her cheeks flushed, and shirt shifted just high enough to give a slight view of the skin beneath it. He raised his eyebrows, holding back a laugh.

"Wow... Someone get a little hot and heavy in," he looked over her shoulder at the door she'd just come from, "a mattress storage room?"

She crossed her arms, scoffing, and cheeks only flushing greater in embarrassment. "Don't act like school broom closets aren't your playground," and if it was weird that she knew where he took girls when he thought no one was looking, neither of them said so.

"What did you want with Link's dad?" She asked, eyes narrowing as embarrassment was replaced with suspicion (and a desire to change the subject in any possible way).

He shook his head, "Don't worry about it," he said, but that wasn't good enough for her. Looking him over (for busting purposes only) a picture of "EvilMan" in the grip of one hand and a sharpie in the other caught her attention. A slow smile crept on her face.

"You wanted an autograph, didn't you?" His eyes followed the gaze of hers, and he made a show of shoving the picture up his shirt.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied (in a blatant way that made Phoebe roll her eyes) and stomped his way to the store's entrance. Letting out a laugh, she heard the jingle of a bell as Max pushed open the door.

He looked back expectantly. "Aren't you coming with me?" 

(She was.)


	2. Hey, Janet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey Janet (Yes Brad?), I've got something to say."

"I'm fine, Mom, I promise. It's just a little cold," Phoebe mumbled through the phone. It was worse than a cold, really. She wouldn't be on her front porch after lunch on a school day if it wasn't. But her parents had taken Chloe to shop for a Halloween costume, and if Phoebe was being honest (because she really wasn't in the mood to be anything but) she really didn't feel like seeing anyone except Channing Tatum on her tv screen.

"Yes, I'll get some sleep," she insisted, holding the phone a few inches from her ear as her Mom yelled chicken soup instructions over the sounds of screaming kids. "Okay, Love you, bye!" she said, cutting her mom off in the nicest way she could manage and unlocking the front door.

First of all, Phoebe wants to say she was surprised that her brother was home from school when he shouldn't be, or that she didn't get a funny feeling when she noticed his hand up the shirt of some girl from their history class, or that she looked away when the girl began unbuttoning his shirt.

But none of it would be true.

She coughed, more so to draw attention to her unwelcome presence than because of the cold that brought her here in the first place.

The couple (Is that what they were? Her brother and a girl that Phoebe hardly knew, so, she assumed, he probably didn't either? Phoebe winced inwardly thinking about it) drew apart, a gasp coming from the girl who's cheeks flushed as brightly as Phoebe's had the weekend before. (She's not comparing her love life to her brother's, though. No.)

"Phoebe!" Max said, out of breath and finally pulling his attention from the girl he'd been kissing to the sister he hadn't expected to see. "What are you doing here?" He stood up abruptly, forgetting who sat next to him.

Phoebe rubbed her pink nose, trying to keep her gaze from landing on the chest exposed from the open buttons of Max's shirt. He took notice, reaching up to fix it. "Sick," she mumbled.

Max's "friend" stood, grabbing her purse from the side table. "I should probably get going," she said, headed for the door.

"You don't have to go, Gaby," he tried (so _that's_ her name), hand shooting out to stall her. "We can just go downstairs. No big deal, right, Phoebe?" He directed at his twin, who wasn't aware she factored into this decision. She looked between the two, shrugging her shoulders.

"Doesn't matter to me. I need to lie down, anyways." Phoebe made her way to the couch, trying not to think about what was happening there earlier. Because, ew.

Max smiled back at Gaby. "See?" But she didn't.

Gaby waved a hand dismissively, opening the door regardless. "It's cool. I've got to get home, actually."

"I'll text you!" Max called out, though the door had closed before he could finish. He walked back to the couch, picking the remote up from under a blanket and handing the ladder to his sister.

"Girlfriend?" Phoebe asked, pulling the blanket around herself. Not that she cared who he dated, because she obviously didn't.

He gave a sideways glance. "Not to her." He waited a minute. "Gonna tell Mom and Dad?"

"Not if we stop talking about it now." Only because the cold was giving her a bad headache. Not because she didn't want to think about the things Max did with Gaby or any other girl for that matter.

"Done." He pressed play, resuming the movie he'd started before Gaby'd invited herself over. Phoebe rolled her eyes dramatically when she heard what came from the TV.

"Don't tell me you skipped class to watch _this_." Max looked at the tv, then back at her.

"Oh, c'mon, you know you love this movie." She shook her head, refusing to admit it. Standing up, Max walked to the kitchen, rifling through several cabinets before finding what he wanted and opening the fridge. "Pheebs," he called over his shoulder. When he came back, it was with a glass of water. A glass decorated in ghosts and bats and jack-o-lanterns and everything a little kid could want in a drinking glass (Thank you, Chloe.)

"I think you've forgotten that it's almost your favorite holiday of the year," he said, handing her the water in a lousy attempt to cheer her up. She sighed, but took it anyways.

"You're thinking of Christmas," she said. "My favorite holiday is Christmas." He sat back down, closer than he had before. Not that she noticed. Or thought about it.

"It's one of the two."

Phoebe said nothing but shivered, snuggling deeper in her blanket, desperate for warmth. Noticing, Max wrapped an arm around her shoulder hesitantly. And if Phoebe hadn't felt so shitty, she'd have been more alarmed at this.

"And you're being nice to me _because_ ...?" She wondered, even if she didn't attempt to stop him. Max laughed, not saying anything. Then Phoebe remembered what she'd just walked in on before, who she'd seen skipping school.

"Blackmail. Got it," she concluded. _Not Necessarily_ , he thought, but made no effort to correct her. Kicking his legs out onto the coffee table, he turned the volume up.

"It's so cheesy," Phoebe whined. She covered he eyes and sneezed as she did so. A small smile formed on Max's lips, before falling quickly. He definitely didn't think the way her face scrunched up when she sneezed or the sound she made was cute or anything. Pfft.

"Don't even act like you don't love it," he said. "It's a classic."

_Okay_ , she thought, too tired to speak again, and fell asleep long before the opening scene had finished.

_"Hey Janet (Yes Brad?), I've got something to say."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry the chapters are super short, and I promise this story is going somewhere!


	3. Nicer Than Betty Munroe Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a ring to prove that I'm no joker  
> There's three ways that love can grow  
> That's good, bad or mediocre  
> Oh J-A-N-E-T I love you so

"Phoebe?"

_No_ , Phoebe thought.  _I'm too tired to get up_.

"Go away, Max," she muttered, turning over and raising the comforter slightly over her face.

"It's Link," the voice said, a note of annoyance to his tone.  _Oh_ , she thought in surprise.  _Why is Link here?_  She sat up quickly. Which, she realized as her head suddenly became  _very_ lightheaded, wasn't a very good idea. She reached absentmindedly for it, sitting up right and tugging a leg underneath herself.

"Oh, hey Link." Her voice was strained. Eyes drifted to the bedside table next to her ( _how did she get here?)_ , searching for something to say, when she noticed a bowl of chicken noodle soup sitting out, the same Halloween cup she'd been drinking from earlier filled with what looked like hot chocolate.  _Huh._

Link stood awkwardly at the corner of her bed, a box of tissues in one hand. "Sorry to just barge in your room like this..Max told me you'd be in here," he explained. "And Cherry told me you were sick." He placed the box next to her soup.

"Thank you," she said, sniffling, just a little uncomfortable. Not like she had any reason to be, not really. She just hadn't seen him since that night at his Dad's work, and she didn't now what to say now. Yeah, that was it.

Phoebe leaned back against her pillows. Her eyes felt heavy. "So.." she began, hoping to pick the conversation up before she drifted off again.

"..."

"Oh!" Remembering the reason he'd made the trip over, Link reached in his back pocket for something. Finally, he pulled a small ring out. Phoebe's eyes grew wide in shock.  _This better not be what she thinks it is she is way too sick for this right now why now no thanks._

"Link?" She shook her head slightly, wondering what could possibly be going on in this boy's head right now.

"For you," he said with hopeful smile as he placed it in the palm of her now outstretched hand, not her finger yet. "It's not what you think," he laughed, not waiting for a response. "Well, maybe. I mean, it's a promise ring."

_A promise what?_

"I know, I know." He raised his hands defensively. "It's just that..I've been thinking about what happened Saturday, and I think you were right. I don't want to do anything with you until you're ready, and especially nothing you are uncomfortable doing. So," he took the ring back and gingerely slid it onto her finger. "I want you to have this. And whenever you're ready," he paused, "just take it off."

"Link," Phoebe wasn't exactly sure what to say. Like, okay, he's her boyfriend. And, alright, that was sweet. She also  _did_  tell him she wasn't ready to do what he'd wanted to do. All of the pieces fit together. But something still didn't feel exactly the way she'd have liked it to. She's probably just too sick to think straight right now.

"I got one, too," he said, gesturing toward his own, and she wonders how she didn't notice it before.

"Wow, um," she scratched the back of her neck in uncertainty, "thank you, Link. This is really  _nice_." But she did want to do it. She did. So why couldn't she just tell him that? Maybe it really is just the sickness.

He smiled brightly. "You're welcome," he checked his phone. "I have to get back to help my Dad, but I hope you feel better, Cool Bones." Phoebe laughed lightly, tugging her blankets back over herself and reaching for the hot chocolate that wasn't actually hot anymore.

"Bye, Link," she said, and he kissed her cheek softly.

Not that she felt it.

* * *

 

"Ow!"

Phoebe sat up abruptly.  _What was that?_

"Hello?" she called, the darkness of her room halting her eyesight from seeing what was going on. The clock on her bedside table, however, read 12:30 in bright green numbers.  _She'd slept this long?_

"Phoebe?" a voice, Max's voice, called out, and impending thoughts of the homework she so desperately needed to catch up on were pushed to the back of her mind. She turned on the lamp, only to find Max huddled over the dishes she'd used a few hours ago and a pair of her pointe shoes. He must have tripped.

"I tripped," he admitted, swiftly picking up what he'd dropped in the process. She made a move to help him, but he'd finished before she actually could.

He looked apologetic. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said, placing a free hand on her shoulders in an attempt to steer her back in the direction of her bed, but she shrugged him off.

"I've got homework to do, anyways," she said, adjusting her clothes that she only just now realized were the same ones she'd worn to school that day.

"What did Link want?" and Max swore he didn't mean for it to come out like that, so  _jealous_ , he was just trying to make conversation.

Phoebe sighed, stealing a glance at her hand. What did  _she_ want? She'd fallen asleep not long after Link had left, and hadn't given too much thought to his offer, but she knew she wanted a different one. Now that the thoughts entered her mind again, she really wished she could talk about it with someone. Figure out what was going on here. Would Cherry still be up this late? Phoebe didn't want to annoy Max with these types of questions, so she settled for the easy way out.

"To bring me tissues," she sighed, pointing behind her at the bedside table. Max followed her gesture, nodding.

"Oh, okay," he said, shifting the dirty dishes in his hands. He gave her disheveled clothes a once over, not bothering to hide what he was doing. " You might want to do something about your clothes," he chuckled lightly.

"Wow. Thanks, Max," she deadpanned. "Ever the gentleman." Making her way to her drawers, she pulled out a pair of pajamas, black and orange and decorated in pumpkins. (She's just a really festive person, alright?) She glanced in his direction apprehensively, and he took the hint and averted his eyes as she pulled her school clothes off and replaced them with the fresh pajamas. When she turned back around, Max was facing the door.

"You can look now," she teased (and wow okay she really needs to brush her teeth) as she tapped him on the shoulder. Turning to face her, he smirked, eyebrows raised.

"Missed one," he said, and she looked down to see her pajama top button was undone. Her face flushed.

"I got it." He sat the dishes down quickly and reached for her top. Phoebe's breathing stops (which she could barely do in the first place because of the cold and all, but  _still_ ) and she would have done it herself, probably should have done it herself. But her hands were already full with the dirty clothes and truthfully probably wouldn't have moved right now even if she had tried. That's the only reason why she let Max's hands get this close to her to do a task that she could have easily attempted herself.

His breath hit her closer now. "Better." It was over sooner than she'd have liked, and then she was breathing again. (Well, you know what she means.) His fingers linger, not that he meant for them to. Not that she isn't somehow glad that they do.

"Thanks," she breathed, and it's the first one all night that she genuinely means. (It's definitely the sickness, she decides now) She sneezes suddenly, breaking the moment (or whatever this was. Neither of them really knew). Max, whose eyes had previously stayed on Phoebe's, broke his stare to hand her a tissue from the table. "Here, Dweeby." And his voice was different somehow. Strained,  _like he was sick, too._  Picking the dishes back up, the dishes Phoebe just realized he'd prepared for her in the first place, something catches Max's eye, and his face falls. Phoebe blew her nose, trying not to wake up a house that she's sure has long since retired for the night.

Max made a face. "Yeah, okay, don't make that sound ever again. Thanks." He stood at the threshold, ready to leave. She rolled her eyes.

"Night, Pheebs." She muttered the same, thankful for a change in mood but kind of wishing it hadn't ended so suddenly. And wondering just what the hell  _it_  actually was.

Turning to leave, he called out over his shoulder. "Nice ring."


	4. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance  
> I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance

Where was he?

Why hadn't he texted back?

Why wasn't her boyfriend here yet?

Phoebe paced back and forth around the living room, a purse in one hand and her phone in the other.

"Hey, Link. It's Phoebe. Just calling you.  _Again_. Did you know the party already started a half hour ago? If we don't leave now, we won't get in any of the group selfies, and Winnie's already posting-" She was cut off. Again. But it was cool. No, she wasn't mad at her boyfriend at all. It's not like she spent the last several weeks going over costume choices with everyone she knew, or the past three hours getting ready. It's whatever.

" _Shit_ ," she muttered.

"Heard that!"

Phoebe looked up to the stairs, watching as her siblings made their way down.

"Nice costumes, guys," Phoebe complimented, choosing to ignore what Nora had just said, or the fact that the thought of her boyfriend was pissing her off more and more with each passing minute. No, second. He was definitely pissing her off by the second.

"Thank you," Billy returned, smiling back at Phoebe. Nora reached over to adjust his hat, a part of his Peter Pan costume. Of course, she was Wendy. And, of course, she was wearing a bow. And it wouldn't truly work without Chloe. Ehemm, Captain Hook, she means.

This was around the time Max strolled in, characteristically not in costume. Obviously.

Chloe gave Phoebe a quizzical look, pointing at her outfit. "Who are you?"

Billy turned his attention from Nora to Phoebe, tilting his head. "Yeah, who  _are_  you supposed to be?"

Phoebe's cheeks flushed slightly (an understatement) and she could feel Max's eyes on her as he opened the coat closet. Nora rolled her eyes before she had the chance.

"It's a seventies movie, Billy, you wouldn't understand."

Phoebe chuckled. "Neither would you." Nora scowled.

"And neither would you," Max said, pulling a jacket on. "I thought you hated that movie." His eyes narrowed, assessing her. Was Phoebe the only one who felt funny?

She scoffed, arms crossing over her chest defensively. "And I thought you hated Halloween."

"I don't hate free alcohol," he said with a smirk. Phoebe threw a pointed look at their siblings and back in his direction, but he ignored it. "The cute girls in Halloween costumes are really just a plus," he added.

"We [I] didn't need to know that." So why did that hurt more than he probably intended it to? Regardless, she couldn't have Billy and Nora, or Chloe, for that matter, overhearing her conversation with Max. She needed to vent.

She turned to her siblings. "Mom and Dad are passing out candy on the front porch."

Their expressions remained the same. Why couldn't they take a hint?

"So?" Billy remarked, clueless as ever.

"Maybe you guys should start your trick-or-treating. It's getting late." And it was, she realized with annoyance as she glanced down at her phone for the hundredth time that night. Max laughed at her lousy attempt at telling them, especially Nora, what to do.

Once the younger siblings were outside, Phoebe twisted her promise ring (she still wasn't comfortable with that term) around her finger, tapping her foot impatiently as her mind once again wandered to her boyfriend. She didn't notice that Max had been staring until she leaned over to ask him something.

His eyes averted quickly, pretending like he wasn't just looking at her ring with more thought than was necessary. "What was that?"

Phoebe sighed. "I said," she looked at him, "How are you getting home tonight?"

His eyebrows scrunched together, a clueless look on his face. But Phoebe was anything but. "Come on, Max, I know you're drinking tonight. Who's taking you home?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Oyster, maybe?" They shared a look. "Okay, so not Oyster.." Phoebe checked her phoebe again. Maybe if she looked at it long enough, her boyfriend would appear.

"I do like your outfit," Max commented once more than thirty seconds without a dialogue had passed between the two of them.

Phoebe blushed - she couldn't help it. Not like she'd ever say, but she'd picked this costume after watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show with him. She was Janet, one of the protagonists; A helpless virgin recently engaged. It's not like she'd particularly liked the film in the first place, but somehow it was different now. Phoebe didn't really know why, but it made her feel things she hadn't before.

"Thanks."

"Link is Brad, isn't he?"

The reason for her bad mood returned to her thoughts. "Well, he was  _supposed_  to be Brad. I don't really see how that can happen if I have his costume and he isn't even here yet," she pouted, and Max followed her gaze to the stack of clothes on the coffee table, a pair of glasses resting on top.

Max's lips parted to speak when Phoebe's phone buzzed in her hands. He waited patiently as she read the text she'd just received. Then, you know, read it again and again because she couldn't believe what she'd just read. Was Link serious?

"Damnit!" And if she wasn't mad already, she was now.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Phoebe began unbuttoning her sweater, fingers shaking slightly with anger. And pissed offedness (she doesn't think that's actually a thing but it's how she's feeling right now so).

"Link can't make it," she told him, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. "Why am I not surprised?" She put one elbow in her lap and held her chin like that pose she's seen girls do in those really cliche movies. Her favorite kind.

Max picked her sweater up, hoping she'd put it back on and they could leave together. (Just leave. Just so that they could leave.) Because there's crying, and then there's girls crying. And Max does not like when girls cry in front of him. Or Phoebe. He hates when girls cry but he  _really_  hates it when Phoebe cries.

"That doesn't mean you can't still go," he tried, nudging her. "I'm still looking for a designated driver," and is that his attempt at comforting her?

"Ohmygod," she muttered into her hands.

After a minute or two of contemplation, Max walked over to the coffee table. He picked up the glasses from the top of the pile. Handled them with interest. Was he really about to do what he thought he was about to do?

"So," he began, "I guess," he winced inwardly, "If you want..." his wince was on the outside as well this time, "I can go with you?"

"Duh," Phoebe said into her hands again. "Of course I'm going with you. I can't let you go alone. I have to drive your drunk ass home."

Max sighed. "No, I mean, together." That thought shouldn't have excited him as much as it did. But it did. It definitely did. "Like, in costume and all that junk."

_What the hell is he talking about?_  Phoebe wondered, and when she lifted her head up to ask, he was wearing Brad's glasses.

"So?" Max asked with a small smile, trying to contain the excitement he had at the thought of spending all night with her. But don't tell anyone he actually enjoys spending time with her, Just, don't do it. ( He doesn't know why, but he wouldn't tell you even if he knew. And he doesn't)

"You cannot be serious," she all but whispered, "I can't go with you, Max," she said, defeated.

"Why not?" he asked, but they'd seen the movie. They both knew why not.

"You know why. Brad and Janet are  _engaged_ , Max. We're twins. It'd just be weird."

And, okay, so  _that_  hurt.

"It's only weird if you make it weird," he said back.

Maybe he did have a point. Regardless, the thought of going with Max tonight, dressed as Brad and Janet, gave her that same funny feeling she'd been feeling on and off for a while now. But it wasn't actually funny. Not at all.

Max attempted handing her the sweater again. "C'mon, Pheebs, you know you want to."

And, she finally decided, she did. So she waited upstairs as Max got dressed downstairs (55 seconds, a record time. Not that Colosso was counting.)

"Going somewhere?" Colosso asked, eyeing Max's outfit. A costume - completely out of character for him. But it was a character from one of his favorite movies, Colosso took note of.

Max looked away, concentrating on his belt buckle as he fixed it. He didn't want to keep Phoebe waiting.

"A party with Phoebe," he answered, slightly breathless. "Link ditched her," he said before Colosso had the chance to ask.

"She's Janet, isn't she?" Colosso asked with a sly tone, and a smile would have played on his lips. You know, if he still had any.

"Yeah."

Max was standing in front of the mirror (Read: Max Thunderman was checking himself out in the mirror.) He didn't want to think of the people who might think it's weird to dress in a couples costume with your twin on Halloween. (It was just for convenience sake, he told himself.) He didn't want to think of the fact that he was only going with her because her boyfriend had cancelled, or that when he'd looked at her there was this really weird feeling in his stomach that he'd never felt before. And he really didn't want to think about how he was about to get shitfaced to block out the thoughts of his sister in her costume. (Because those didn't matter. And he wasn't really sure what they meant, anyways, so what was the difference?) Right now, he just wanted to make sure Phoebe was happy. How weird was that?

"You look nice."

"Thanks," Max said with confidence. (But he wasn't confident on the inside, he wasn't. He was freaking out he was freaking out oh god he didn't want to screw it up he didn't really know why but he was freaking out oh god he was freaking out okay?)

"I'm sure Phoebe does, too," Colosso added, but Max was too preoccupied to reason why Colosso was being so nice or what his agenda could possibly be.

He smiled, more so to himself than anything. "She does," he breathed out.

And then he was gone.


	5. Only Leads To Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling done in, couldn't win  
> I'd only ever kissed before

Winnie's party was nothing like Phoebe had expected and so much more. By her count, she'd already shoved her way into exactly seven group pictures, was tagged in eight, and had almost taken up the majority of her phone's storage with selfies of her and Cherry. Max had even agreed to a few pictures himself ("You can't drink that in the picture!") ("I swear to God, Dweeby, if I see these on any form of social media..."). Long story short, they were having  _fun._ And it felt good. Yeah, Phoebe could really get used to this.

"Want one?" a typsy Max asked, holding out a cup for Phoebe, coaxing her to have as much fun as he was having. But she was content with just spending the rest of her night with him. Sober, that it.

She held the keys from her purse up teasingly. "Driving us home, remember?"

He waved them away, setting the drink down. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."

They walking around for a while, taking in Winnie's house and the people in it. Max made snide remarks on the way everyone was dressed - mostly those in superhero outfits -while Phoebe admired the thought they'd all put into their costumes. Phoebe didn't actually get invited to a lot of parties, Max realized.

They were just about to go say hi to Cherry when Phoebe spotted something.

Turning away from Max momentarily, she sat her purse down at a table nearby. She fumbled through it in search of something. Once she had found what she was looking for, she turned back around to face him.

"Here," she said, handing him the glasses he'd taken off around selfie #5. "Put these back on. I want to get a picture with that Evil-Man over there." She pointed across the room at the lone superhero costume in a sea of Cats, Bunnies, and Netflix-and-Chill outfits (" _Gotta remember that one for next year_ "). "To show Link."

Max took them, a skeptical look etching his features. "Uhhh...you sure you want to do that?"

Phoebe acted like she didn't know what he meant. "Do what?"

"I don't know.. take a picture to send to the boyfriend who just ditched you on Halloween?"

Phoebe sighed. She had spent the better part of her evening dwelling on that. But she was over it now, and Max should be, too. "He had a perfectly good reason, Max."

"Yeah, I'm sure he did." Max rolled his eyes, putting on the glasses anyways and following his sister's lead to the random party goer.

The Evil-Man was talking to a girl in a white dress and rabbit ears, a beer in one hand and his other steadying himself on the wall as he leaned over her.

Phoebe walked up quickly, tapping him on the shoulder. The two were kissing, and it made Phoebe blush.

"This is embarrassing," she whispered, thinking Max would would here her. She reached for her purse, ready to pull her phone from it. She kept her head down as she introduced herself. "Hi, my name is Phoebe." Where was that stupid phone? "And I was just wondering if I could get a picture with you to show my boyfriend? He's actually -"

"Umm, Pheebs," Max said into her ear, having finally caught up. She swatted him away.

"Just a minute, Max, I'm looking for my phone." She'd left her phone in this purse. She was sure of it.

"Phoebe..."

She turned around to face him. "What, Max? I'm busy," she said through gritted teeth, looking down to see her phone in his hand, a nervous look on his face.

She smiled in relief. "Oh, thank you, Max!"

Max's eyes drifted from hers to the boy behind her, a look of anger on his face that Phoebe chose to ignore.

"I am so sorry," she apologized, turning back around and intent on getting that picture. "As I was say-"

Oh.  _Oh._

 _No,_  Phoebe thought.  _This is not your boyfriend. He is not here right now getting drunk with another girl when he told you there was an emergency._

Just,  _no_.

"Link?!" She spat incredulously. This could not be happening right now.

Link said nothing, but the girl he was with left in a hurry, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever was going on here.

"What are you doing here? I thought there was an emergency!" She still didn't want to believe he would lie to her like this. And, still, he said nothing.

"Dude, what the hell?" Max asked, and that got Link's attention. He turned on Max.

"Stay out of this, alright? I know you have a problem with that, but Phoebe's business is not your own. It never is."

Phoebe pointed a finger at Link. "Hey, don't tell him what to do. You lied to me! At least Max came with me."

"Yeah, I wonder why..." Link wondered aloud with a laugh. He was way too drunk to have a conversation of any importance at the moment, but Phoebe couldn't let this go. Max took his glasses off in embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying again. Link looked her in the eyes this time.

"I don't think you want to have this conversation in front of him," he said, nodding to Max, who had now moved to stand slightly in front of Phoebe. Guarding her. Protecting her.

"Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of my twin." She crossed her arms, ready for whatever he had to say. It's not like it would make a difference, anyways. Any sort of relationship they has was already over as far as she was concerned. He was dead to her.

"You want the truth?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

Phoebe nodded her head, as if to say  _duh_. If this asshole didn't start talking now...

"Okay, fine." He looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes settling on Phoebe. "You're not putting out, and that's not okay with me." He shrugged his shoulders.

What?

" _Excuse me_?"

"I'm a guy, Phoebe. I have needs. We've been dating for nearly a year now. You won't drink, you won't have sex. You won't even let me get to second base!" He took another sip of his drink. This was not who Link was. Why was he saying these things? He was her boyfriend. One of the good guys. How could this be happening to her?

She shook her head furiously. "I cannot  _believe_ what I'm hearing right now!"

Max looked about ready to commit murder, and if Phoebe was being honest she did  _not_  blame him one bit.

"You know, Phoebe, if you'd just-" And then the nearest fifty people were staring with opened mouths as she took her twin's drink and threw it on her ex-boyfriend.

"What the f-"

"Let's go, Max."

And then they did. (But not before Max used his telekinesis to make sure their audience threw their drinks on Link as well).

* * *

 

The car ride home was a silent one. Phoebe clutched the wheel with intensity, not willing to speak right now. And Max would have to be crazy to try and get her to. Phoebe's mind was still running a million miles a minute, but for different reasons now. All she could think of was how being with Link had been the past few weeks ( _The entire time_ , she wouldn't let herself think), how he made her feel. And then she thought of how she felt when she wasn't with him. When she was alone.  _No_  , when she was with...

Max opened and closed the back door with caution once they were home, not trusting Phoebe in her current state to do it soundly. He wasn't as drunk as he'd initially thought. He put his coat away, then opened the lair door, ready to slide down and tell Phoebe goodnight when he realized that she was gone. Assuming she'd left for bed in a hurry, he slid down to his room.

To his surprise, she was standing next to his bed, pacing back and forth.

"Pheebs?" He rubbed his eyes with his hands, standing up to be closer to her.

"I don't know why I'm down here," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. He gave her a minute to gather her thoughts, watching with curiosity as she clasped and unclasped her fingers. A nervous habit they shared. (He thought he saw a tear escape her left eye, but he was never too good at paying attention to details).

Sighing, he walked closer, talking lower in an attempt to keep Colosso asleep. (He didn't know why, but he just didn't want Colosso overhearing them. For some weird reason.) "Look, Phoebe, I'm sorry about what happened tonight. But don't beat yourself up over it. I always knew Link was an asshat. Now we have confirmation." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

He nudged her shoulder with his. "It's not like it was your fault, anyw-"

"It was," she whispered. (Yep, those were tears.)

His face scrunched up. "What are you talking about?"

Phoebe looked down, doing that thing where she pinches the bridge of her nose when she gets overwhelmed.

"I wouldn't have sex with him."

And now Max was angry again. "And how is that a problem? If you don't want to do it, you don't have to. That's not his choice to make for you."

She looked up with a sad smile. "But I do. That's the problem. I want to do it. I just," and then he understood.

"Oh, just.."

"Not with him." She finishes the thought. "And it's not like he wasn't a great boyfriend before this all happened. Because he was," she had to remind herself of this. "There was just something  _off_  about it. I don't know how to describe it."

Max eyed her knowingly. "I get it."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, shaking her head with self-pity. "No, Max. It's different. I just feel like there's something-"

"-Missing?" He asked. "Yeah, me too." His breathing was getting faster, and Phoebe thought that maybe he did understand what she was talking about, even if she didn't exactly.

She chuckled lightly, glad that someone finally understood. "I'm sorry to bother you with this," she wiped a stray tear. "I know you're tired," she motioned to his bed. I don't even know why I came down here. I just had this weird feeling like I  _had_ to talk to you. It's stupid, really." She turned to leave, not sure what was going on in her head but sure that she needed to leave.

Max reached out to her before she could make it up the steps. "Pheebs, wait!"

She turned around, and Max was lost in thought again. Why did she have to look so...like  _that_? He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Look, Phoebe... You don't need some guy's approval to validate yourself. You're fine all on your own. Trust me."

Phoebe blinked in surprise. "Wow, Max. You know, that might actually be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"Well, then, I'll try not to make a habit of it," he assured her, causally (not so casually) placing a hand on her forearm. Not quite on her wrist or in her hand but very, very close. That one touch felt exciting, electric, and was it just Phoebe or was his face suddenly a lot closer than it had been before? Or was that in just in her head?

She looked down at her arm with a small gasp, and so he did, too. He took notice of the way she moved in closer, his eyes widening, like he was suddenly very aware of what he was doing. Wasn't he supposed to be the drunk one here? She laughed. A nervous laugh. A laugh that meant she thought she knew what she was doing but really had no clue. None at all. And she was just in the middle of telling him to fuck off when he, he just - he did it.

He kissed her.

(No, it wasn't just in her head anymore.)

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that she was shocked. No, Phoebe Thunderman was freaking the fuck out. Her mind was the epitome of controlled chaos. Okay, they bickered constantly, and, she could admit to herself, they flirted like crazy. But it was never supposed to go farther than that. Why was it going farther than that? Why was she  _letting_  it go farther than that? Her right hand fell to the side, her left reaching up to rest on her cheek. The same cheek Max's hand had found a home in just seconds before when he made a move that, in every possible way, would affect the rest of his life. They both had about a million thoughts going through their minds all at once, but it was a wonder Phoebe could think at all with the way Max's fingers were running through her hair. She never knew that was something she actually liked until  _he_  did it.

 _This isn't right,_ Max thought.  _I know that this isn't right. It's wrong. All kinds of wrong and fucked up, and Phoebe doesn't do the wrong thing. She just doesn't. Ever- it's not in her DNA_ (And he really wishes that thought hadn't entered his mind.)  _She's going to hate me._

Phoebe really didn't know  _what_ she was thinking.  _Shouldn't this have stopped already, if it was just an accident? Because it's obviously an accident, it just has to be. Why am I still kissing back? Why did I kiss back in the first place? At least Max can blame this on the alcohol - I have no excuse._ So, reluctantly, and with all the regret of someone who really  _really_  didn't want to stop doing what they were doing even though they knew how wrong it was, she pulled back, gasping.

Phoebe's fingers flew to her lips, touching them curiously. Checking that what she thought just happened actually, in fact, happened. That this wasn't all just some sick and twisted dream. ( _Nightmare_ , she hates to correct.  _That this wasn't a nightmare_ , because Phoebe has dreams and then she has nightmares, and only one of the two involve feeling this way about Max and she will not let herself think of which one that actually is.)

They both stood still, their labored breathing filling the room with excitement and uncertainty.

Max was the first to make any sort of attempt at taking the elephant in the room, and, for lack of better word, stabbing it.

"Phoebe, I-"

She shook her head slightly, lost in thought.

"No, Max."

His face fell, regret in his eyes, but determined to explain himself. "I know what you're going to say, okay? But it's like you said. I feel something that I just, I shouldn't. I know that. And I shouldn't have just assumed that you could ever possibly feel the same way. I'm sorry, Phoe-"

 _So it wasn't just the alcohol. It was real. Max meant what he did._  Phoebe held her hand out, quieting him. He didn't understand how she felt. Could never understand how he made her feel.

"You just, you scared me. That's all."

"Oh."

A moment passed. She twisted the long forgotten ring around her finger. Max became suddenly drawn to it. The way it fit.  _Too small_ , he decided. Not quite right for her. All at once, he realized, she stopped. Took a shaky breath. Steadier than before, but still uncertain. She bit her lip in thought.

Max didn't know what to make of that. "Phoebe?"

"Do it again."

Max was taken aback, eyebrows raised is surprise. Because his sister couldn't possibly have just suggested what he thinks she just did, because she doesn't break the rules. That's his thing. Because she had never said anything so impulsive in her life.

"What?" He asked, but with the way he took a step closer to her, it came off more like a challenge.

His eyes followed her fingers as they covered her ring, watched with intensity as they slid it off her finger and onto the desk behind her.

"Do it again." She stepped closer, too, and he could feel her breath on his face once more, deciding somewhere back in the farthest reaches of his mind that it was his new favorite feeling ever.

Their eyes met.

"Okay."

And then he did.


End file.
